Mona | Page 3

she cried, with almost passionate scorn, and flushing to her
temples.
"I beg your pardon," Justin Cutler returned, feeling almost as if he had
been guilty of an inexcusable insult; "believe me, I would not wish to
put you under any obligation that would be burdensome."
Then he asked himself if it would be safe for him to tell her of his love
then and there, lay his fortune at her feet, and thus relieve her from her
present trouble and all anxiety for the future.
But he feared she might resent the offer, coming at such a time--think it
was prompted more by pity than affection, and reject it as scornfully as
she had refused his offer of a loan.
She was very attractive as she sat there before him, her white hands
folded on her lap, her eyes cast down in troubled thought, and a grieved
expression about her beautiful mouth, and he longed, with all the
earnestness of his generous nature, to help her in this emergency.
Suddenly his face lighted.
"Are you willing to confide in me the amount of your indebtedness,
Mrs. Bently?" he gently asked.
She falteringly named a sum that staggered him, and told him that she
had indeed been very extravagant.
"I--I have always had what I wanted. I have never had to count the cost
of anything, for my husband was very generous and indulgent," she
apologized, with evident embarrassment, as she met his grave look.
"May I make a practical suggestion without the fear of offending you?"
the young man questioned, with some confusion.
"Oh, if you would!" cried his companion, eagerly, her face brightening,
while she uttered a sigh of relief, as if she expected that his suggestion,
whatever it might be, would lift the burden from her heart.

"You have some very costly jewels," Mr. Cutler remarked, the color
deepening in his cheek as he glanced at the flashing stones in her ears;
"perhaps you would be willing to dispose of them and thus relieve
yourself from your present embarrassment."
"Oh, you mean sell my--my diamonds?" cried the lovely widow, with a
little nervous sob, and instantly her two white hands went up to her ears,
covering the blazing gems from his sight, while a painful flush leaped
to her brow and lost itself beneath the soft rings of her burnished hair.
"Yes," pursued Mr. Cutler, wondering at her confusion. "If I am any
judge, they are very valuable stones, and I suppose you might realize a
handsome sum upon them."
He was secretly planning to redeem them and restore them to her later,
if she should favorably regard his suit.
"But--but;" and her confusion became intensified a hundred-fold, "they
aren't real. I'd be glad enough if they were, and would willingly sell
them to cancel my indebtedness, but they are only paste, although an
excellent imitation."
Her companion regarded her with astonishment.
"You surely do not mean that?" he exclaimed, "for if I ever saw pure
white diamonds, those which you wear are certainly genuine."
"No, they are not," she returned, shaking her head with a positive air. "I
am very fond of diamonds and I had some very nice ones once, but they
were stolen from me just after my husband died. I could not afford to
replace them, just then, and I had these made to wear until I could do so.
They were made in Paris, where they are very clever at such work. I
hoped when my husband's estate was settled, I could have some real
stones again; but, of course, I cannot now," she regretfully concluded.
"Will you allow me to examine them, please?" Mr. Cutler asked, still
sure that the stones were genuine.

Mrs. Bently unhesitatingly removed one of the crescent ornaments
from her ear and laid it in his hand.
He examined it critically and was still confident that it was really
composed of precious gems. He believed that if she had had them made
to order to replace the stolen ones, either the jeweler had been guilty of
a wretched blunder, or else some friend had interposed to replace the
jewels which she so regretted.
"I am sure there is some mistake. I am confident that these are real
diamonds and very valuable," he asserted, positively.
"Oh, no, they are not," she repeated, with grave assurance.
Then she naïvely added, and with a little ripple of laughter:
"I am glad to know that they are so good an imitation as to deceive you.
There is some comfort in that, although it is not pleasant to have to
acknowledge the sham."
Still her companion was not convinced. Surely no paste jewels ever
emitted such a brilliant white light as those which lay upon his palm,
catching and reflecting the various colors about